


And What A Scary Thing Caring Is (but it brings hope)

by Batsthesecond



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is inadvertently trying to parent, Bruce refuses to let Tim join him, Course Tim doesn't take that for an answer, Gen, Healing, Stubborn Tim, These two give me feelings, Tim gets a Wayne Enterprises internship, Tim's early days with Bruce, cinnamon roll Tim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29393850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsthesecond/pseuds/Batsthesecond
Summary: Bruce refuses to let Tim become Robin and Tim doesn't take no for an answer. A bullet ensues. Then a compromise. Then an internship. And somewhere along the line, family.-The tears fall slow and then descend in a flood. Bruce chokes them back and presses the back of his hands into his eyes with frustration.Clever, stupid boy.No self preservation instincts whatsoever, just pushing forward through sheer stubborn willpower.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 8
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Depression  
> TW: Low self esteem issues
> 
> Hello all, first off, the Title of this was HARD but eventually (as you can tell) I settled on "What a scary thing caring is (but it brings hope)" because I feel like that really encompasses Bruce and Tim's relationship, especially in the early days. Bruce was so scared of caring but it through caring for Tim, that he found hope. 
> 
> I've been wanting to write this for a while now and am very excited to be posting, hope you enjoy!

The stab wound isn’t deep but he’s only just begun Patrol and doesn’t want to head back to the cave for stitches. Leslie’s clinic is nearby so he makes a detour there instead.

He arrives through the back entrance and settles down to wait. A few minutes later, the door opens and Bruce looks up, expecting to see Leslie.

And well, he does see Leslie—he also sees the boy she’s ushering in.

Leslie eyes him, “Ah Batman, this is why you should call ahead.” She gestures at the boy, “C’mon sweetheart, this-.”

Bruce ignores the pain in his side and leaps to his feet, heart in his throat.

He fixes the boy with a glare and immediately demands, “ _What happened?”_

Timothy Drake jumps slightly and then winces, clutching his arm. The hoodie he’s wearing is black but Bruce can see the fabric on his left arm steadily blooming darker.

Tim looks up at him and opens his mouth then closes it. He begins to shrug, then thinks better of it and winces again in discomfort.

“ _Tim.”_

The boy sighs, “I got shot, what does it look like?”

And Bruce will not grind his teeth. He will not— “ _How.”_

“I was at a friend’s house,”

Bruce’s angry gaze prompts, _and??_

“And, I got caught on a mugging in my way home. S’normal around here. The guy had a gun. Gun plus Tim’s arm equals bullet in Tim’s arm.”

“ _Why were you alone in Gotham?_ ” Bruce growls.

Tim glares at him then, “I was visiting a friend, I told you. And muggings are just another Tuesday. Only difference was this guy had a gun instead of a switchblade. Good thing he didn’t know how to aim.”

“I’m taking you home.”

Leslie clears her throat, “Yes, please take him home _after_ I stitch him up. Now, as much as I would like to know what’s going on, Tim needs medical attention so.”

Bruce grumbles but moves away from hovering over Tim and gives Leslie space as she begins the process of patching the boy up.

By the time they’re done, Tim’s face is a mess of tears and Bruce is doing his best not to break anything.

Leslie administers the needed medicine before leaving Tim to rest and moving towards Bruce.

He stops her before she can begin her checkover, “Minor stab wound. I’ll have Agent A take a look at it after I take Tim home.”

She gives him an admonishing look and begins to protest but stops after a contemplative pause. “Very well.”

After giving him Tim’s painkillers and antibiotics along with instructions,she fixes Bruce with one final look that promises a phone call in the near future.

She leaves the room afterwards, smiling reassuringly at Tim and ruffling his hair as she goes.

The door closes with a click behind her and Bruce is left alone in the room with Tim who looks half-asleep.

“Come on,” he grunts.

Tim pulls a face but obediently leaves his chair and follows Bruce out the door.

Their drive begins in silence but once they hit the highway, Bruce looks over at Tim and in a firm tone says, “This needs to stop.”

Tim for his part, doesn’t look away from the window. Bruce grits his teeth, “ _Tim_ , _this_ _needs to stop.”_

Tim finally looks over, “What does?”

Bruce glowers, “Sneaking out of your house into _Gotham City_ in some misguided attempt to shadow me.”

Bruce expects him to deny it again but Tim only says, “No.”

And if Bruce were to look over at him, he knows he’ll see that stubborn set in his jaw. Bruce knows that stubbornness all too well.

“You are untrained and are going to get yourself _killed.”_ He doesn’t yell. Yelling would mean losing control of the situation and Bruce is _not_ losing control of this situation.

“You can’t stop me.”

And Tim- Tim has a point. Bruce has no authority to stop him. And isn’t that the problem. (so much for control)

“I’ll tell your parents.”

Tim outright scoffs, “Yeah? As Batman or Bruce Wayne? That is assuming you can even get ahold of them and also assuming you can get them get to listen. Threatening to tell my parents is a joke and you know it.” The words are bitter but there’s an undertone of deep sadness. Bruce tries to ignore it.

He clenches the steering wheel tighter as Tim continues. 

“I already told you what needed to happen and you refused. I’m only doing what needs to be done.” Tim’s gaze bores into him, “Or have you rethought my offer?”

Bruce’s silence is answer enough.

There’s a quiet hum, “Okay, then.”

The rest of the car ride is spent in silence until they go through one of the hidden entrances to the Batcave and Tim abruptly sits up.

“I thought I was going home,” He says accusingly.

“You’re not going home alone with a gunshot wound.”

“I’m not-“

“ _Don’t lie to me, Tim_ ” Bruce finally growls and Tim relents, glaring out the window.

They pull into the cave and Bruce heaves himself out the car. Alfred is waiting for them, no hint of surprise in his expression as he approaches Tim. “Master Tim, while I am glad to see you, I can’t say the same about the circumstances.”

A corner of Tim’s mouth lifts “Just a scratch, Alfie.”

Alfred merely hums before turning to Bruce, eyes carefully washing over the blood on his side. He hums disapprovingly again and this time a pointed look accompanies it.

Bruce looks away and walks towering the changing area, grabbing a plain t shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

The shirt is his.

The pants were Jay’s.

His throat bobs and he hands the items to Tim, “Change into these.”

Tim eyes the clothes dubiously before setting his jaw and beginning to remove his hoodie.

Bruce silently helps him change into the shirt, watching as it swallows the boy whole. Tim takes the pair of sweatpants and mutters “Good Night” before beginning to trudge toward the stairs.

Bruce sighs and finally allows Alfred to patch him up. Alfred says nothing, only methodically tends to the wound.

Bruce surprises himself and suddenly says, “I think he got caught in the crossfire with the group who stabbed me,” He shakes his head, “I didn’t know he was following me.” Another shake, this time more frustrated, “I wouldn’t even have known he’d gotten shot if I hadn’t seen him at Leslie’s.”

“What are you going to do, Master Bruce?”

“I don’t know.” It was an honest answer and yet it still stung. “I don’t know,” he repeats.

“And his parents?”

“They’re never around. I doubt they’d believe me if I told them and even if they did, I doubt they’d even care. I- we- we need to find some sort of compromise. I don’t want… I just don’t want…” Bruce trailed off. “I’ll figure it out.”

Alfred nodded and placed a firm hand on Bruce’s shoulder in a brief gesture of comfort, “You will. And you will make the choice that is best for Master Tim. I know it’s hard, my boy, but perhaps the young master needs someone as well.”

He pulled away and bid Bruce good night before heading upstairs. Bruce sighed and turned to his computer, focusing his energy and his thoughts on an open case.

Eventually the exhaustion caught up to him and he made himself push away from the monitor and move upstairs. The thoughts he was trying to avoid came back with full force.

Short of going to CPS with charges of child negligence, Bruce didn’t know what to do.

Even then, that would mean putting Tim into the foster care system and Bruce couldn’t do that to him. He wasn’t even sure the system would remove Tim from the Drake’s care.

But he couldn’t let Tim join him on his crusade- _he couldn’t._ He can’t lead another Robin to his death.

But Tim follows him anyway, always a couple steps behind him and never predictably. _Bruce can’t-_

Even when he tries, he still fails.

What if the gunshot hadn’t been to his shoulder. What if it’d been to his heart? What then? Another dead boy. Another blame which can only fall on Bruce.

He doesn’t know what to do.

_He doesn’t know what to do_.

Bruce finds himself in the kitchen and he sinks onto a bar stool clumsily as the moisture grows in his eyes.

The tears fall slow and then descend in a flood. Bruce chokes them back and presses his the backs of his hands into his eyes with frustration.

_Clever, stupid boy._

No self preservation instincts whatsoever, just pushing forward through sheer stubborn willpower.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there and only comes back to himself when the lights flick on.

Tim stands in the doorway, eyes blown wide like a deer staring at headlights.

“Sorry- I was just- water” Tim stammers.

Bruce runs a hand over his eyes tries to stifle his sniffle by clearing his throat. “It’s fine, I’ll get it.”

He peels himself off the bar stool and fills a cup to the brim with ice and water.

Tim takes it and drains it quickly. “Thanks.” He glances at Bruce, then away and then back at Bruce again. “I’m sorry.” He says again.

Bruce shakes his head tiredly, “If you’re truly sorry, stop going out.”

Tim’s head swings back, shock in his eyes, “I thought- well, I _thought_ …” he trails off and shakes his. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, “But I can’t. Gotham needs you and you need someone to ground you.”

Bruce feels something inside him break in two. He doesn’t. He doesn’t. (he does).

He slumps back into the bar stool and places his head in his hands. He hears Tim sigh and walk towards the sink. The water turns on and Bruce listens to light flow as Tim rinses his cup. It stops and then Bruce hears the foot steps receding.

“You can start monitoring the coms. Training to do so begins tomorrow.”

He pulls his head up and meets Tim’s stunned gaze.

After a minute, Tim pulls himself together and nods seriously before turning on his heel and heading back towards his room.

Bruce pushes himself up and manages to drag himself to his room.

_I’m sorry Jay._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim starts off with the comms. He ends up having to jump into fights with Bruce a couple of times. Oh and he ends up getting a Wayne Enterprises internship because Bruce is doing his I'm-not-really-helping helping thing.

Bruce teaches Tim how to man the comms, he shows him the things to he needs to look out for and the databases he can search in. He gives him the run down of his case organization and shows him where to look for correlations. 

By the time Bruce deems Tim ready, the boy’s wound is close to being fully healed and Bruce is debating if he can begin the rigorous training regimen he had in mind. Maybe if he pushes Tim hard enough, the boy will quit trying to keep up with Bruce.

Tim’s first 2 hours manning the coms go off without a hitch. Then Bruce jumps into a fight without properly assessing the situation and gets backed into a corner. Tim shows up a short while later, causing a distraction and allowing Bruce to get the upper hand.

Afterwards, Bruce angrily tells Tim he’s not allowed to leave the cave and Tim grudgingly agrees. 

2 days later, Tim is once again in the heat of things and Bruce is once again making angry demands. Tim goes along and bobs his head but shows up during patrol a couple days later and then again the week after that. And again. 

Bruce begins the training regimen. 

He makes Tim do repetition after repetition, even when his form is correct, but Tim never complains, only complies. Martial arts doesn’t come to him as naturally as Dick or Jason but he determinedly presses through until each kick and punch and block becomes second nature.

Bruce never addresses the hard work but is quick to point out each and every mistake and yet Tim doesn’t _quit_. 

The boy is a constant every evening after dinner but is usually gone by the time Bruce gets back from Patrol. Or, if it’s on a day he’s deemed it necessary to show up during patrol, he rides back with a furious (but slowly becoming resigned) Bruce and then disappears off to his house.

He’s never at the Manor during the day and Bruce thinks nothing of it other than it makes it easier to avoid him. Because while he could never say or do anything intentionally cruel to a child, he _can_ avoid. Anyone he lets in only ends up hurt so it is _better_ to just avoid. To act as a trainer and nothing more.

Tim is a good kid. He’s clever and quick-witted and Bruce has caught himself twitching from some comment or another and Tim deserves _better._

Better than-

_“I know you don’t want me here Mr. Wayne and that’s OK but I need to here anyway. Gotham needs Batman and if no one else can look after Batman, then I guess that’ll have to be me. And I know I’m not the best choice but I’m the one that’s available at the moment.”_

_Earnest and quick to hide the dull in his eyes, earnest and somehow still believing in Bruce when Bruce doesn’t believe in himself. Tim has seen him weep. Tim has seen him toe his own moral line. Tim has seen him broken. And somehow-_

Bruce continues to push, Tim continues to improve, and somehow they form their own little routine. 

Then Bruce forms his own little routine. He actually gets out of bed in the morning instead of waking up at odd hours and instead of going directly to the cave, he eats Alfred’s breakfast— a black coffee and a piece of toast. 

He begins acclimating himself once again to his company and starts taking more control instead of only sending signed paperwork when needed. He eases himself into the workload by working remotely and eventually begins to head to the office a couple days a week. 

The first time he asks Alfred for a suit and tie, the man’s careful stoic facade breaks for a split second before he recovers. He says, “Right away, sir” and a couple minutes later, Bruce has a pressed tuxedo, slacks, and a navy blue tie waiting for him. 

He still doesn’t pull his punches on patrol but he tries to be more cautious when engaging in fights knowing that he’ll have Tim jumping in if he doesn’t. There are times the reckless, destructive fury inside him still wins but Bruce fights it when he can. When he can’t, Tim shows up and slowly brings him back. And sometimes, he sticks around, following after Bruce and engaging in small talk, a constant chatter about stars or the “cute” dog they just passed, or a story of when he tried to replicate Alfred’s blueberry scones (a fail, from what Tim recounts) 

Bruce starts arriving at the cave with less serious injuries and finds that some days, he doesn’t have the need to pound to lessen the pain inside. 

Tim still disappears after patrol and Bruce still does not think of it.

Then he finds a couple math sheets in the cave and absentmindedly gazes over them, his brain silently running through the various equations. 

The next day—Saturday—he lets Alfred know he’ll be going to the Drake estate and plays off the sudden softness in Alfred’s eyes as imagined. 

Alfred sends him off with a treat and Bruce arrives at Tim’s doorstep a short time later with blueberry scones in one hand and math homework in the other.

Tim opens the door and blinks at him, clearly surprised and says “Oh, hey B, what’s up?”

Bruce lifts both items and Tim’s face light up at the scones before morphing into distaste when he notices the homework. “Oh, thanks.”

Bruce nods and says “You got 2 and 5 wrong,” as he hands both the scones and offending papers over.

Tim puts a scone in his mouth and runs his eyes over the equation, sticky hands leaving an imprint on the white sheet. “Oh, I see it-“ comes muffled through his mouth before he swallows, “I missed the negative sign outside the parentheses on 2.” He scrunches his nose, “Aaand, I’ll figure out what I did wrong on 5 when I get my hands on a pencil. Thanks.”

Bruce resists the inexplicable urge to wipe the sugar off his cheek and nods again. “Is your housekeeper running an errand?”

Tim looks at him, puzzled. “Oh, Mrs. Mac? She’s only here twice a week or so and usually not on weekends.”

“Oh. Then who takes care of you?”

Again, the puzzled look “Um, myself? I’m not a baby you know. I’ve been doing fine on my own since I was like 9.”

Bruce feels the expression on his face freeze as he says, “I see.”

“Um, well, was there anything else you needed?”

Bruce peers over Tim’s head into what he can see of the house behind him. Dim. Dim and alone. 

_Alfred could use some help with his garden._

_I need some assistance with the Maroni case._

_Or-_ “No- No, that was it. See you in the evening.”

Tim raises the hand that holds his homework and waves, “Yeah, see you.”

Bruce walks away, feeling a stone sinking in his gut. He doesn't want to look too hard at this. He doesn't want to care. It isn't his _job_ to care.

He’d already known Tim’s parents weren’t around and that Tim was usually left to his own devices. He just hadn’t realized to what extent he was left to his own devices. 

Or, well. 

He’d known deep down that something was wrong. He just hadn’t wanted to to dig further.

_Because that wasn’t his job_.

But then again, it hadn’t been Tim’s job to care for him either. And he’d done it anyway. 

If Bruce’s mental calendar of Gotham Academy was to be trusted, Tim would be on summer vacation in about 2 weeks and a half. At least when he was in school, that kept him occupied most of the day. And then he could come over to the Manor during the evenings. But during break…

Bruce told himself he only approached Lucius with the internship request because he didn’t want Tim getting himself into trouble due to boredom. 

_“Timothy Jackson Drake, Eight grade, Gotham Academy. Please have an R &D internship prepared for him and a couple others over the summer.”_

Lucius had only lifted an eyebrow before nodding his consent. " _Very well.”_

Which was how Bruce found himself receiving a text from Tim a week later. Or multiple texts to be exact 

Tim:

_So I just got an email for a Wayne internship?_ 🤔

_Bruce?_

_B_

_Bruce. Bruce. Bruce._

Bruce:

😮

🤨

😶

👏👏👏

🤷🏻

Around halfway into his messages, the little box that indicated Tim was typing popped up.

Tim:

_Please, please please PLEASE stop butchering the art known as emojis_

_And did you mean to say you weren’t involved with this?_

Bruce:

_Why would I be involved with this?_

Tim:

_I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to figure out._

Bruce:

_I’m not even sure who’s in charge of internships. And you won’t run into me probably so no worries there_

Tim:

_Well that certainly brightens up the offer. Do we get paid?_

Bruce:

_Probably._

Tim:

_Thanks O’ great fountain of knowledge._

Afterward, he sent a hurried text to Lucius - _Please make sure the interns know they’ll be paid._

He received a thumbs up in return.

He wasn’t sure if Tim accepted the internship until the next day at the office when he approached Lucius. The man lifted a hand and said, “Before you ask, yes, Mr. Drake accepted the R&D internship along with 5 others.”

The corner of his mouth lifted and he said, “Ah, thanks Lucius.”

Lucius nodded and although his words had been teasing, his eyes were kind. “It’s good to see you smile, Bruce.”

He walked away but the words stayed on Bruce’s mind. 

It did feel good to smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had the text exchange written since I first started this thing and I was so happy to add the emojis! See you guys next time.


End file.
